Meet Cute
by Ventisquear
Summary: Anders loves cute things. Elves are cute. The Warden Commander Airam Surana is an elf. With big shiny, purple eyes... and did you see his ears?   And so Anders became the Grey Warden.
1. Meet Cute

_This is going to be my longest AN. But I recommend not to skip it._

_Ladies and gentlemen, I present you my new multi chapter story, set during Awakening. It's based on kmeme prompt: Elves are cute. Anders loves cute things. So when he meets certain adorable Warden Commander with big, shiny, (purple) eyes, he goes into 'aaaaawwwwww, cuuuuuuute' mode and stays in it even when he sees that the Commanders is in fact BAMF. _

_Those who know my other stories have probably guessed already - yes, the Commander is **Airam Surana** from **Failed to Fail** and most of other stories. And of course in all those stories Airam is paired with Zevran. __Before you start throwing rotten tomatoes at me, remember Zevran is not there and Airam doesn't even know if his silly assassin is alive. Who can blame Anders for **trying** to console his cute Commander? The 'romance' in settings refers to Anders' attempts, not Airam's response._

_If Airam seems bit too childish here – blame Anders, not me! This is his POV, this is how he sees Airam. It doesn't mean he's always objective. ;o)_

_**Warning**: This story will be less-more AU. Less at the beginning, more at the end. :o) Especially at the end. If you read **Broken****Toys** you know that Airam has very good reason to hate Templar. Most of the time he is reasonable and aware that not all Templar are bad, blah blah blah. Still, he would never make any deal with Templar to supervise one of his friends. Goodbye, cannibalistic DA2 Anders! I'm going to forget you ever existed. _

_Thanks for **Brelaina** for still having patience with me and beta reading this. :o)_

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><p><strong>Meet Cute<strong>

This really wasn't one of his best days. Captured in the morning, imprisoned at noon, almost eaten alive in the early afternoon.

They had found his tent and managed to disarm his glyphs while he was still sleeping. 'Hit by Smite' immediately became the top on his list of worst ways to wake up.

After hours of half-carrying half-dragging him – not because of 'Templar cruelty', but because he refused to walk normally, no need to make it easy for them – Vigil's Keep seemed lovelier than the bedroom of an Orleasian whore. _Let's __stop __there __for __a __short __break_, said Biff. Too bad, Biffy, seems the break is going to be prolonged for you. Like, forever. Who would've guess that so soon after the glorious victory in Denerim, the _Warden's__keep_would be overflown by darkspawn?

At least they weren't too picky about who they tore apart. Biff went down first, the big oaf. He probably should have felt sorry, them still being humans and all that, but they were _Templar_. Which made their humanity quite questionable.

And if he didn't help, it was entirely their own fault. Continuous smiting and energy draining left him weaker than a kitten. There wasn't much he could do other than watch the darskpawn massacre his captors – and despite everything, he didn't enjoy it – hoping they would not notice him in that cell until he gathered enough energy for at least one solid fireball and unlocked the door. It was good he learnt a few tricks during his escapes; he hated to admit it, but sometimes the magic was not enough.

Thank the Maker, darkspawn never counted amongst the brightest creatures. When they finally noticed there was another human in the room, he was ready. He knew he had only one shot and focused everything he had into it. Bit too much, it turned out - he burned his fingers. Something like that hadn't happened since he was five, damnit.

It was exactly at that moment, when the fireball hit the monsters, that he heard someone shouting something about survivors and running his way. The door banged open and he reluctantly turned to see -

That was not what he expected. Not that he really expected something, but if he had, it wouldn't be this. It would be a mighty warrior with massive armour and huge sword. Not – this.

An elf boy, with huge staff on his back, pair of daggers at his hips and the most curious set of black leather armour, with trousers. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty at most. With the cutest pair of little ears he had ever seen. That was the first thing he noticed about the boy – the ears. He had barely restrained himself from closing the distance between them and fondling those ears. Only then he slowly took in the other details – big, purple eyes, unruly hair of a funny violet shade falling in his eyes, lean figure, pale skin. No wonder he was pale, he thought, everyone had the right to be scared when they first saw darkspawn.

The boy blew away a lock from his eyes and he felt like his heart was melting and dripping right to his shoes. This elf was more adorable than a kitten. Maybe even more than _two_ kittens.

"What are you staring at? Who are you?" The boy looked at the bodies of dead Templar suspiciously.

"I'm Anders, and before you ask, no I didn't do this. Not that I'm sorry, I'm really not too eager to go back to the Tower."

"You're an apostate, then? And these men were Tempar?"

He nodded, and the boy smiled a little. "Well, what is done, is done. We can talk about it later. Are you injured? Can you fight?"

Awww, the kid was pretending to be a brave warrior, was he? "I'm fine. Who are you? How did you get here? And where did you get that armour from?"

The human girl that he hadn't even noticed until then, so mesmerised he was with the young elf, scowled at the questions, but the young elf was smiling.

"That's the Archdemon's hide, made for me by my favourite smith, Wade. And I'm Airam Surana, Commander of the Grey. Pleasure to meet you."

Wait. What? No way. "Commander...? You?" _Do __they __have __a __junior __section_, he almost asked but he thought better of it.

"Were you hit in the head?"

"Not that I remember, but -"

The elf actually stomped. "Can you fight or not? I have no time, I have to finish this quickly, I have urgent business in An – elsewhere."

He nodded, and when the Warden turned on his heel, he licked his lips. This cute-pie had to be his.


	2. Conscripted

Big hug to **Brelaina** for beta reading this. :)

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><p><strong>Conscripted<strong>

"Pathetic incompetent beasts! Miserable smelling wretches! Why don't they finally creep back into their dark holes and stop wasting my time?" The boy kicked away a block of ice that was the head of a leader of the darkspawn.

"Are you all right, Senechal? Any injuries? No? Well I still think Anders should check it."

He nodded, grinning widely. During the last few months, he had heard a lot about the Hero of Ferelden, all kind of wild stories that differed in almost everything. Except for one thing – all the rumours agreed that the Hero was an extremely menacing fellow who could kill you just by glaring. Well, now that he met the Hero in person, he could say one thing - whoever started that rumour was either an absolute fool, or blind, or most probably both. Sure, the boy was a formidable opponent in a fight, and his glare was truly a master-work, but it was enough to look at those cute little ears and you had to smile again.

"Hehe would you look at that. It seems the pike twirler can't live without his Commander."

"What? Where?" The boy immediately joined the dwarf peering through the crenels.

"_Pike __twirler_?" Mhairi looked at the dwarf with a look of utter disgust. She condemned the dwarf the moment they found him fighting in one of the halls, covered in blood and other gruesome things and reeking of brandy. That he was a great warrior or one of the Commander's friends meant very little to her.

"Alistair," said the boy with smile. "All done, Anders? Good. Come with us, Senechal. We have to give him a proper royal greetings."

"You mean _the _Alistar? His Royal Majesty, Alistair Theirin?" The Senechal got up immediately.

"Who else? Come on let's go." The kid almost skipped downstairs.

oOo

The King didn't come alone, of course. He had a big company with him. The company of _Templar_. Shit. Worse even, one of them was the blasted Rylock bitch. What was _she_ doing with the King's company? Well, there was still a chance she wouldn't notice him, she had more important things to care about, like the King and the kid Commander and darkspawn, right?

But the bitch must have had some kind of sixth sense that allowed her to feel apostates, because the next moment she looked straight at him. Oh blast. He stopped, letting the others in front of him.

The boy knelt down, and so did the rest of them. "Your Majesty, allow me to welcome you to Vigil's Keep. We are very honoured by your presence-"

"What are you doing?" The King almost fell, so quickly he tried to get off his horse. "Cut that nonsense and get up. _You _don't kneel in front of me or anyone else, and that's a royal order."

"Your wish is my command," chimed the boy, bowing down in false humility, before the King yanked him up and gave him a bear hug. He chuckled softly at the sight – and at the bewildered expression of most of the Templar, with exception of a few guys, who watched the scene with a strange fondness in their eyes.

"It's so good to see you again," said the King when he finally let the boy go.

"Yeah I know, after such an _awfully __long_ time... why, it was almost _two __weeks_! First Oghren, now you, should I expect the rest of the gang coming?"

"Oghren is here? Ah, there you are. I'm sorry I didn't noticed you before. You're kinda little, you know."

The dwarf huffed. "That's because you only look at the surface, pike twirler. I'm big where it counts."

The King just laughed, ignoring the insult. "And I see you already made some new friends?"

"You know me. I can't sleep without a band of misfits around me. Especially this one," the kid tossed his head in Anders' direction. "Remind you of anyone?"

The King turned to him surprised. "What... Maker's balls! What is this, a plot to overthrow me? If so, you know I'll gladly -"

"Step aside from that man, Your Majesty! He's a dangerous apostate!"

All eyes turned to Rylock, who dismounted her horse and walked to the King. The King's men that were watching the scene with the smile until now, immediately followed her.

"Who's the lovely lady?" Asked the kid, with steeliness in his voice that wasn't there before. He was _almost_ scary now.

"Ser Rylock. Explain yourselves, or I will have you arrested for public malignment of the Hero of Ferelden and Friend of the Crown."

Anders closed his eyes and swallowed heavily, trying to keep fear out from his voice. "Excuse me, Your Majesty. I believe she is talking about me," he explained.

"That's right," she confirmed. "That man is Anders, a dangerous man who continuously violates the rules of the Circle of Magi. This is the seventh time he has escaped from the Circle Tower. We got a report that he was captured, and he was supposed to be back at the Tower already. There were supposed to be four Templar accompanying him. Where are they?"

She addressed the last question directly to him and he felt panic rushing through him. It wasn't his fault they were dead, but she would never believe that. Before he could answer, however, the kid Commander cut in.

"You're the one who was always running away? I knew the name was familiar," he said with a smile. "As for your question, Ser Rylock, I'm afraid those Templar are dead. Darkspawn attack," he turned to the King, "and we will have to talk about it, it's more serious than it appears. Come, let's waste no more time."

Rylock didn't intend to give up so easily. "They are dead? They were all accomplished Templar, it's hard to believe they would be dead while he survived. That will have to be investigated."

The boy slowly turned to her. "Ser Rylock. Are you accusing me of giving His Majesty a false report?"

"You're a mage, too," she spat and turned to the King, reaching her hand as if she wanted to grab his hand. "Your Majesty, you can't really trust-"

She didn't get any further. One of the King's Templar pushed her down to her knees with a blade on her neck. "Remember your place," he growled. "Don't talk to His Majesty and the Captain General as if you were their equal."

"Now that's one title I haven't heard for some time. Wait, I know you. You're... William, right? Second regiment, third battalion? And I see other familiar faces." The boy smiled at the King's men who swelled with pride and joy as if it was the Maker himself who praised them.

"Yes, all the members of the Royal Guard have are also in the Order of the Griffon. Which makes me the best guarded monarch in Thedas, I believe. Let her go, Will, I believe she learnt her lesson."

A pity. It was a real pleasure to see the bitch on her knees, for a change. Though for him, it would make things worse. There was no way she would forgive him this humiliation. She would make sure he was made tranquil the moment they were back in the Tower. He sighed.

The King looked at him, frowning. "What are we going to do about him?"

"I humbly apologize for my previous behaviour, Your Majesty. But this man is a criminal. Please allow me to take him back to the Tower, and the Knight Commander Greagoir will -"

"No." The kid Commander folded his arms. "Forget it. I don't care about his past. I recruited him."

He blinked in surprise. "You did? When?"

The boy grinned. "Why, right now of course. But if you'd prefer to join Owain in cleaning the storeroom..."

"Are you sure, Air? If he's really an infamous criminal..." The King looked at him suspiciously.

"Nonsense. He's not a criminal, he's a legend. He managed to escape from the Tower under _Greagoir__'__s_ supervision seven times. That's quite an accomplishment, trust me. Wardens _need_ men like that. I have to warn you," the kid turned to Anders, "being a Warden is much less fun than it seems. But at least you get to keep your emotions."

He wouldn't care if they told him he was going to fight the Archdemon tomorrow. The look on Rylock's face was totally worth it. "That's good enough for me. Do not worry, Your Majesty, the Commander is in no danger from me."

The King and the boy looked at him as if he just fell from the moon and burst into laughter. "Aw, that's cute. You think I was worried about Air? I was concerned for your own safety, you know. Airam has very little patience with people who break his rules."

"All right, enough with the idle chat. Me and Alistair need to go over some important issues that concern national security – yes, Al, it's that bad and it can't be delayed. Anders, Mhairi and Ogren, you go have some rest. Varel, please organize cleaning of the keep, so we have a sleeping place ready by the nightfall. Then we will go ahead with the Joining ritual."

It seemed one of the gods finally decided to smile upon Anders. He never was much of a believer, so he couldn't say if it was the Maker or some other entity, but right now he felt really blessed and grateful. A Grey Warden! No more Greagoir! No more Rylock and Templar supervision! Life was _good_. Oh he will cherish this moment forever, the memory of Rylock's expression was going to be one of his favourite.

"And I'm sure Ser Rylock and her men will gladly help," added the kid as afterthought. "As a service to their country and good King Alistair. Right?" The boy gave Rylock the sweetest smile ever.

Even Mhairi grinned a little at Rylock's expression.


	3. Idle Talk

Thanks to awesome beta **Brelaina** for her help.

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><p><strong>Idle Talk<strong>

It was extremely entertaining to sit and rest, watching the Templar working hard. Most of the big company that arrived were Rylock's Templar; the King arrived with only five guards, who, he realised now, didn't wear Templar insignia. They joined him in resting, and Varel somehow managed to find a bottle of wine. Yes, life was _good_.

The King's guards were all good swordsmen, but he still thought it was a stupid idea to travel without a mage, skilled in both battle and healing. The kid Commander apparently shared his opinion and scolded the King like a snotty brat.

The King's guards were just smiling, as if it was something they had seen many times before.

"You're not going to stop him?" He asked the man who punished Rylock.

The guy looked at him with the scorn of veteran talking to a rookie. "You mad? Not even the Archedmon was able to stop _that_ guy, what chance do _we_ have? Besides, they are equal 'cause His Majesty is Captain Gereral's King, but the Captain General is the King's Commander, 'cause he's still a Warden. You get it?"

"Besides, the King wouldn't allow it. You remember what happened when that Bann who called the Captain General a 'dirty knife-ears who doesn't know his place'?" Added another one.

"Oh yeah I remember that piece of shit. He had such a funny name... Dieter? Demeter? Something like that. Yeah but that man had a nerve to slap him. Right there in front of everyone."

"Hehe, His Majesty had him arrested and he spent a month in a prison. He was quite _dirty_ himself after that, wasn't he? Pathetic fool. I still say he got out cheap."

"Oh, I don't know. I heard Commander _Arainai_ visited him in there as well, and that he's still pissing himself in his sleep. One of his maids told one of the kitchen maids, and she said it to her sister, and that sister's a mistress of George, you know George, right? And he told me, so I'm pretty sure it's true," said another guard wisely. "And the Commander Arainai's a great fellow but _I_wouldn't want to piss him off."

The other guards nodded gloomily, no, they wouldn't want that either.

"Commander Arainai?" He asked curiously.

"You mean you don't know who it is? Where have you lived by now, on the Moon?"

No, not the Moon, though he would prefer that. Unfortunately, he spent the whole Blight in solitary confinement in the Tower. Administrative error, Greagoir said with a grin. The truth was that after Uldred's rebellion everyone except the Tranquil who was responsible for bringing him food and water forgot he even existed. Not something he wanted to brag about. He escaped three days after they let him out – and it only took him that long because he spent them in tubs filled with hot water.

"I was... elsewhere," he said. "So who is this 'Commander Arainai'?"

"He's one of the Demonslayers… You know who they are, right? You've heard about the great Battle of Denerim, right? We were also there. And after the battle, we got the Order of the Griffon, ya know, for bravery and got to be the King's guards… Anyway. Commander Arainai, he's a tough fellow. Some say he was an assassin before, and I believe it. Dangerous guy, he is," explained William.

"Yeah, but the Captain General has him wrapped 'round his little finger," snickered another one and they all chuckled.

"He does? Why is that?"

"Not very clever, are you? They're lovers, of course."

Crap. That was quite a thwart in his plans... but he was not going to give up that easily. "So where is he now?"

The guards exchanged worried looks. "You mean he's not here? That's weird, they left for Amaranthine together. Something must have happened."

Interesting information. He felt more optimistic immediately. He didn't know why this Arainai wasn't with his cute lover any more, but he didn't care. If the kid Commander had a broken heart, he would gladly offer a shoulder to cry on. What kind of a monster would he be if he didn't try to help the man who saved his life?

The guards went on talKing about their experiences from fighting darkspawn, especially the Battle of Denerim, describing their heroism at great length and in greatest details. He pretended to listen, gasping and praising them and nodding at all correct places – he had long practice from the lessons back in the Tower – but he didn't really pay attention.

He had to plan his next move. The sooner he helped the kid Commander to get over his previous lover the better for everyone, after all.


	4. Joining

Finally, an update. Sorry for delay. :)

Thanks to Brelaina for beta reading this.

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><p><strong>Joining<strong>

The next day the King sent the messenger back to Denerim and then merrily announced he was going to stay 'for a day or two'. Which turned into four. They were surprisingly funny days, considering that they were spent scrubbing darkspawn blood and other things from the floors and walls of the Keep. Normally it would be boring and horrible, but the King challenged a Commander 'to compete for points' – the one who could clean the most rooms, would win the bottle of the best wine the Senechal could find. The others were allowed to join in, as well, and soon they all were scrubbing as if their lives depended on it.

The Senechal Varel tried to reason with the Commander that it was not appropriate for him and His Majesty to take part in cleaning, of course. The Commander quirked his eyebrow and turned to the King.

"Hear that, Al! Seems you're too above us to help with cleaning now, you should stop."

"But if I stop now you'll win! No way I'm doing that," complained the King.

The Senechal wisely decided to leave those two to do as they pleased and focused on recruiting more servants and guards from nearby villages.

Four days later the Keep was finally clean enough. The one most happy about it was the Senechal – he was running out of good wine. And Rylock, of course. He really enjoyed watching her work. But every fun had to end, eventually. On the evening of the fourth day, the King finally announced he was going back to Denerim the next morning.

"I guess the fun part really ends now, huh," sighed the King and he didn't even try to mask the disappointment in his voice.

"Well you can always come here. We'll always find some nice dirty corridor for you to scrub." The Commander grinned. "Just try to wait at least one month before you come, all right? I'm sure we'll be low on budget for some time and royal visits are expensive."

They both laughed, then the King got serious again. "Want me to help with the Joining, before I go?"

The Commander shook his head. "No, that's something I must do alone."

"But will you be all right if... if there are complications?" insisted the King.

_Complications_? Anders moved closer to listen, but the Commander spoke too quietly. That made him even more worried. But there was nothing he could do – unless he wanted to join Rylock after all. No. Whatever those complications were, it could not be worse than the Rite of Tranquillity. Even death would be better than that. In fact... he glanced at the Commander thoughtfully. Perhaps those were the complications. Perhaps the Joining ritual could be fatal? Maybe they would have to undergo some test, of... endurance, or strength, or something. Whatever – as long as he would be allowed to use magic, he was not afraid. And as the Commander was also a mage, it would be safe to assume that magic was allowed. Right. Nothing to worry about.

OOo

The King left the next day at dawn. The Keep was suddenly so empty. There were few servants now, a cook and his kitchen boy, three maids, a couple of guards. But compared to the King's noisy company, it was way too quiet. Especially as the Commander was all quiet, as well. During the breakfast everyone except Oghren became nervous and tense. Mhairi could hardly eat, jumping at the slightest noise. Obviously she heard the remark about 'complications' as well, and came to the same conclusions as to what it could mean.

"Right," sighed the Commander when the silence became unbearable. "Senechal, is there a room we could have a meeting in private, without being disturbed?"

The Senechal nodded. "Of course, Commander. Everything is arranged to start exactly at ten, as you wished. If you please."

They followed the old man to one of the smaller rooms at the top floor. The room was empty except for a plain desk with one big silver goblet on it. What intrigued him more, however, was the barred window and the heavy metal door. It was all very suspicious – as if the Commander wanted to be sure none of them would be able to escape, if they decided not to go on with the ritual. He quickly glanced at Mhairi. She was just as nervous as he was.

"Should I wait outside, Commander?"

"As you already know what this is about, I don't think it is necessary. Do all the servants know they should stay away?"

"Yes, Commander, they were informed not to come to this corridor, and there are two guards at each end."

"Good." The Commander sighed. "Now listen, you three. This is your very last chance to change your mind and walk away. If you do, you will have to leave the Keep immediately, and you'll be on your own. If you decide to stay, however, then it is forever. No matter what happens here, you will not be allowed to leave. The Joining Ritual is secret and will remain so. Did I make myself clear?"

It was really weird, to see the kid Commander all grim and serious like this. As if he was some bad ass general and not a cute elven mageling. Ooh, he would be almost scared. _Ears_, he thought, _focus__ on __the__ ears_. Y_es, __that's__ right.__ See, __he's__ not__ scary.__ This __is__ just__ probably __part __of __the __test, __to__ see __if __you__ are __afraid. __Show__ them__ what __you're __made __of!_

"Anders? Are you feeling ok? Do you want a glass of water?"

He blinked. The Commander was standing in front of him, looking worried.

"Oh he's fine. I bet he just wet his pants. Wait, he doesn't have any. There will probably be a puddle below him, heheheheheh."

He didn't expect anything better from the dwarf, but his pride was hurt a little when he saw the Commander and the Senechal smirk at it. Even Mhairi laughed at it, the fat cow. As if she wasn't afraid.

"I'm fine, Commander. Let's get this over with."

"Right. What about you, Mhairi? Oghren? This is the last chance to quit."

"Naaah. Just go on," grumbled the dwarf. Mhairi nodded, trying to look brave.

"As you wish, then. Senechal, lock the door." The Commander waited until the old man did as he was told, then turned back to them, again."

"Allow me, then, to say a few words that have been said from the beginning: Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten... and that one day, we shall join you."

Not knowing what to do, he nodded. "So what now? We have to fight each other and the one that survives will become a Warden?"

Oghren burped. "Heh. In that case you should just kill yourself, sparkle fingers. You don't stand a chance."

"That's... that's not what ritual is about," squeaked Mhairi. "Right, Commander?"

"Of course not," smiled the Commander pleasantly and pointed to the goblet. "You simply have to drink a mixture of darkspawn blood, the blood of the Archdemon and a few other, similarly pleasant things. So, who wants to be the first one?"

Even Oghren shut up at that.

"You're kidding, right?" asked Mhairi nervously. "You wouldn't really ask us to drink the blood of those things?"

"Sorry, Mhairi. No kidding this time," sighed the Commander. "Oghren. You're a brave, strong dwarf. Teach these two how to drink,"

"Hehehe, you're right. That sodding thing can't be stronger than Dragon Piss anyway." The dwarf walked over to the desk, lifted the goblet and took a long sip. They all waited, holding their breath. After a few moments that were almost painful, Oghren burped.

"Not bad, Commander. If you've got some left after this ritual, think of me."

They all laughed with relief. He wanted to go next, but Mhairi was faster. "If that drunk could do it..."

The Commander didn't say anything, just smiled and gave her the goblet. She drank – and the next moment she was on the floor, howling in pain. He moved to her, but the Commander shook his head.

"There is no way to help her, Anders. We can only wait and see if she will make it."

It didn't take long... and yet he felt as if he aged a century. He watched the Commander kneel down next to her and close her eyes, and whisper how sorry he was. It seemed so unreal. One moment she was alive, laughing at Oghren, and the next...

"Anders?"

He looked at the Commander, who was watching him with that worried look again. But this time he was probably worried that he would try to run away. _Right __into __Rylock's __loving __hug_, he thought with a smirk. This was at least quick.

"Give it here, Commander, before I decide to try my luck with an eighth escape," he said. The Commander gave him a grateful smile and handed him the goblet. He sniffed the liquid in it. It smelled of dirty socks , garlic and mould. Eeeew.

"Cheers, Commander," he said merrily and lifted the cup to his lips.

_I__ don't __know__ how__ the __piss __tastes, __but __it __can't __be__worse __than_ -


	5. Prisoner

Thanks to Seika for all her help and support. You rock, lady. :D

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><p><strong>Prisoner<strong>

He woke up with a terrible hangover, and for a moment he couldn't remember where he was, or how he got there. Andraste's tits, whatever it was that he was drinking the night before, it had to have been very strong, and probably tasted like shit. And he had obviously drank on an empty stomach, because he was starved like never before.

"Are you finally awake? Good. I was starting to think you'd sleep for a hundred years, and that only a kiss would wake you up. In which case it would have to be done by Oghren, you understand."

What? Who? Where? He sat up on the bed, and squinted at the figure sitting on the windowsill next to his bed. It was a cute young elf, very pale, with purple hair and the cutest pair of ears ever. Why did that sound familiar? Did they have a tumble, last night? Ouch. It would be so much easier to think, to remember, if his head didn't hurt so much.

"I bet you have a terrible headache," the young elf said with a smug smirk. "And you're starving, right? Well, as you're a healer, you can deal with the first thing yourself. As for the second, you know where the dining hall is. But you had better hurry; the cook is already exhausted by trying to feed Oghren. I guess we will have to hire at least four or five of them, if we want to recruit more people."

Anders noticed a washbasin in the opposite corner of the room, and walked over to it. There was a large jug of clean, fresh water. Ignoring the amused look of the young elf, he grabbed the jug with both hands and poured it unceremoniously over his head. Then he took one of the potions from the pouch on his belt – his own recipe, a miracle against hangovers – and swallowed it in one gulp.

"Ahhh. _Much_ better. _Now_ I finally remember who you are."

The Commander – for as unbelievable as it sounded, this cutie was the Commander of the Grey – quirked his brow. "So happy to hear that. Go and get something to eat; meet me in my office in half an hour, and bring Oghren with you."

His stomach loudly agreed with the Commander's words, so he quickly obeyed. Half an hour would be over quickly, and the last thing he wanted was to make the kid Commander angry with him. His plans were quite opposite, in fact.

oOo

Half an hour later, he walked into the Commander's office, with a slightly drunken Oghren in tow. They had barely enough time to sit down, when Seneschal Varel entered the office. The Commander threw him surprised and annoyed look.

"I'm sorry, Varel," he said a bit impatiently. "As you can see, I'm busy right now. I'll call you when we finish here."

"As you wish, Commander. I just wanted to ask what should we do with the prisoner," Varel said, turning to leave.

The Commander frowned. "Wait. What prisoner?"

"We caught a thief, a few days ago. He tried to break into the Keep. He put up quite a resistance; it took six guards to capture him. He's been in the dungeon since."

"Oh. I see," the Commander said sweetly. "And you didn't inform me about it immediately, why exactly?"

"I did not think it was necessary to disturb you with such trivialities while there were much more important things to do," Varel replied smugly.

"Then next time, _don't_ think," the Commander snapped angrily. "In the future, I want to be informed about any break-ins into the Keep, failed or successful, the moment it happens. Now, I want the full report about this case. And please, don't omit any _unnecessary_ details."

Anders was impressed. He knew already that the Commander was quite skilled in a battle, but he didn't really expect him to possess any leadership abilities; he thought the kid would be only too happy to leave it all to Varel.

"I'm afraid there's not much more to say, Commander," Varel muttered defensively. "The prisoner refuses to tell us his name or reasons."

Oghren belched. "The sodding nug-licker is no use. Give me five minutes with that prisoner, and I promise he'll sing more than the bard."

The Commander nodded. "Yes, let's go have a talk with him. Take us to the dungeon, Varel."

oOo

The man in the cell didn't look especially dangerous or tough. But maybe it was just because of the old dirty rags he was wearing, and the hungry look in his eyes.

"Unlock the cell, Varel."

"Surely you don't want to – "

"Varel. I said, _unlock the cell_. I will not repeat it again."

The Seneschal bit his lip and nodded to one of the guards, who quickly unlocked the cell. The Commander nodded. "Thank you. Now please, everybody except for the Wardens, leave."

It was clear that the Seneschal was not at all happy with this; he opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it. He etched a simple bow and quickly walked out, followed by confused guards. The Commander waited until they were all out, and then opened the door at the cell. The prisoner was carefully following everything, but he didn't say anything.

"I've heard you were caught trying to break in into the Keep," the Commander said calmly. "I want to know –"

"Look, I've already told that other guy; I won't talk to anyone but the Hero of Ferelden," the man said in a bored voice. "Kill me or torture me, I don't really care, but I won't say anything until I see that bastard."

"You can start talking, then. That would be me; Airam Surana, the Hero of Ferelden and the Commander of Grey, at your service,"

The prisoner ran his eyes over the Commander, from his purple hair down to his boots. "_You're_ the Warden Commander? What, do they have a Junior section?"

Anders couldn't help but chuckle a bit, but luckily, neither the Commander nor the prisoner were paying any attention to him.

"I assure you, that I am the Hero of Ferelden. Unfortunately," the Commander sighed. "So, what do you want from me?"

"I thought my father's murderer would be more impressive," the prisoner said bitterly, and stepped closer to the Commander. Oghren drew his big axe, so Anders decided to ready his lightning spell as well, just in case. But the Commander waved his hand, to stop them.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Nathaniel Howe. The son of Rendon Howe, the one you murdered in his own mansion, and whose name you slackened to get to his lands."

Howe...Howe...now that sounded familiar. Where did he hear that before? Anders furrowed his brows, trying to remember. He was quite certain he heard the name quite recently, a few days ago, Varel mentioned it, now what was it...

Oghren cursed loudly, but the Commander remained calm. "So you came to avenge him?"

"At first I thought so, yes. I wanted to lay trap for you, and kill you. But then I changed my mind. I only wanted to get back some of my family's things. It's all I have left."

"What property?"

"It doesn't matter now, does it? Hurry up and kill me, as you killed my father."

The Commander watched the man for some time, and then sighed. "During the Blight, where were you? I've never heard of another Howe son."

"In the Free Marches. I only returned a month ago."

"I see. How long did you live there?"

"Almost eight years. My sudden return has made a scratch in your plans, hasn't it?"

"No, not at all." The Commander shrugged. "It just explains why you act like an idiot."

Howe tensed and made another step forward. Oghren took the fighting stance, but the Commander stopped him again.

"How much do you know about what your father did during the Blight?"

Howe folded his arms. "You don't expect me to believe those slanders, do you? My father was an ambitious man, I admit, and strict to his subordinates. But he was not a traitor! He served the Hero of the River Dane, and his country. He did not deserve such an end, especially from a –"

"From a knife-ear? A Maker-cursed mage?" The Commander laughed derisively. "Let me tell you how I killed your father, then. I did not go to his mansion with the _intention_ to kill him, you know. I went there to free the ruling Queen of Ferelden, the daughter of the said Hero of the River Dane. Your father had imprisoned her in one of her rooms."

"Lies!"

"You don't have to believe me. There are others who witnessed the pleasant character of your father, first hand. Ask Oswyn, the son of Bann Sighard. I found him in the dungeons, tied to a rack, just because he survived Ostagar. He's crippled for life – by the time he got to the healer, it was too late to fix some of the injuries. Or ask the survivors of the Highever massacre. Incredible as it sounds, a few servants managed to escape."

Howe looked unsure as to what to say to that, so he stayed quiet. For a moment, they just glared at each other. Then, the Commander sighed again. "It would probably be most reasonable to kill you."

"It probably would," Howe agreed. "Because if I ever get out of this prison, I will come back. And you might not be able to catch me that time."

"I see." The Commander grinned. "Anders, go get Varel. I've decided what to do with the prisoner."

He didn't have to go far – the Seneschal was waiting impatiently right behind the door, and when he heard the message, quickly went to the Commander, without one word.

"Varel, I decided to set him free. Please give him back all his belongings. And some food; I don't want him to attempt a robbery again because of hunger. Nathaniel Howe, you're free to go wherever you want, but if I ever see you on the territory of the Keep, I _will_ kill you. Do I make myself clear?"

"_You're letting me go_?"

"Commander, you should really reconsider –"

"_Burp_. Crazy as always, eh?"

The Commander didn't say anything, and after a moment everybody realized he really meant it, and would not change his mind. The Seneschal nodded towards a chest standing near the guard's desk. "Your things are over there. Take them and get out of here."

"All right, then." The Commander smiled, ignoring the Seneschal's angry looks. "It seems we're done here. Let's go back to the really important business."

Anders couldn't stop grinning, as he followed the Commander back to the office. One thing was sure: no matter how hard the life of a Warden was, with Commander like this, at least it would be fun.


	6. Interlude I: Birds of Feather

I know I didn't update this story for ages, but I didn't abandon it. I was a bit stuck because I don't want to reveal spoilers about Failed to Fail, but as this is its sequel, it's more difficult than I expected. I finally found some balance, so I will start updating this more regularly.

This chapter was originally a story for Bloodsong's challenge at BSN: Interrogation. But as I know I won't resist to continue in this plotline, I decided to include it into Meet Cute. So now the intention is to have one chapter from Zev's POV after every five usual chapters of Meet Cuter from Anders' POV.

Thanks to my wonderful beta Seika for her help and encouragement to include this in MC. :D

* * *

><p><strong>INTERLUDE I<strong>

**Birds of a Feather**

Zevran slowly opened his eyes; when he saw what was in front of him, he quickly shut them tight again. Brasca! Of all possible Crows Xavier could have sent after him, he had to send this sadistic cretin? Not good. At all. And what was worse, the ground was rocking and that could mean only two things: either the hit in the head was much harder than he expected, or he was on a boat. For the first time in his life, he hoped it was the former one. He tried to move a little; he was tied, just as he expected. It seemed this time he wouldn't get out so easily.

He opened his eyes again and flashed his sexiest smile at his captor, who was a living proof that there were both ugly elves and dumb Crows.

"Ah, Emilio! What a pleasant surprise! Waking up in a cesspit couldn't please me more."

"Shut up, whore."

"Still eloquent as always, I see." He tried to look around, but he was tied too tight. "Mmmm so many ropes. I like that. But it would be better without the chair. It's... in the way."

"I said shut up! I'd rather die than touch you. Don't want to get something nasty."

_Sweet Andraste, thank you for this mercy. I promise I'll never use your ass and other body parts as swear words again_.

"Are you sure? Tsk, tsk. There goes another legend. I was told you already had every single illness and that it's a reason of–"

He was interrupted by a slap on the back of the head. "My master doesn't have to compensate for his incompetence as an assassin by whoring himself," someone hissed in an angry voice. "Now shut the fuck up and talk only when my master orders you, whore."

"Well said, Rico, well said. But don't think I won't punish you for that blunder earlier. We almost failed our mission because of you."

"Of course, master," said that young voice again, this time in most repentant tone. "I know that my behaviour in the stable was unforgivable. I'm ashamed of myself, truly, and I deserve any punishment you will give me."

Ah. It had to be Emilio's apprentice. As master, as apprentice, it seemed, both violent and dumb. That mistake in the stable–a ten year old would have done better. No wonder he was trying hard to get into Emilio's good grace again.

"Now then, Arainai. I will ask you a few questions. If you cooperate, your life will end sooner and in a less painful way. If you don't cooperate, Master Xavier will be most displeased. That's the message from him."

"Most displeased? How horrible. I'm so trembling with fear. Of course I will cooperate, I promise. Ask away, I'll tell you all my secrets."

"I don't care about your secrets. I want to know about the Warden."

"What about him?"

"Everything you know."

Zevran grinned. The rest of his life might be short, miserable and painful, but the next few moments should be fun.

"Everything I know? Hm... Let me see... Well, his name is Alistair Theirin, and he's the bastard son of the late–"

"The other Warden."

"The other one? Oh, you mean Faren Brosca, yes? He's a dwarf from Orzammar–"

"You know who I mean!"

Zevran blinked. "No. Who?"

"My master means the Warden Commander, the one who ended the Blight," said the apprentice, with the slightest hint of exasperation in his voice. Oh. So he was brighter than Emilio after all.

"Ah, he should have said that immediately! There are many Wardens in the world, after all." Zevran flashed another smile at Emilio. "The Warden Commander. Everything I know, was it? Hm… Well, his name is Airam Surana. Sex: male. Race: elf. Occupation: the Commander of Grey Wardens in Ferelden–"

"Are you making fun of me, Zevran? You said you would cooperate!"

He chuckled softly. The look at Emilio's face was priceless. "And I do as I promised! Am I not answering your question?"

"I already know he's a male elf!"

"You do? I'm impressed."

"Don't provoke me, Zevran. There are other ways to make you talk."

"But I am talking! Should I be more loud? More wordy? Anything you desire, oh my unsexy captor."

"I _desire_ you to tell me things about the Warden Commander that are not known to everyone! You spent more than a year with him. Are you totally incompetent?"

"Things that are not known to everyone?" Zevran knitted his eyebrows. "Let me see... oh, this is difficult... we were living in a camp, most of the time, you know, not much privacy there... I admit, I have no idea what you may want to know. I must be truly incompetent, just as you said," he admitted with a sigh.

"Tell us what he does during the day, his routine, and what he likes and dislikes, anything relevant," ordered the apprentice. Interesting; it seemed in Emilio's case, the apprentice was the brighter and more experienced one. And Zevran didn't miss the 'us', in the command. He had a feeling that in different circumstances, he would probably like him.

"Aha! Now we're talking. The routine... there's isn't any, I'm afraid. We all had rounds in patrolling the camp, so we were all awake when necessary and slept when we could. In the morning, we would have a breakfast that was sometimes delicious, if Wynne or Leliana was cooking, and sometimes horrible, if it was Alistair's or Sten's turn. Sten was even worse than Alistair, because the Qun doesn't allow you to learn new things – if you're a warrior, you're a warrior, not a cook. And when it was delicious, it took longer, but when it was horrible, we wanted to finish it quickly. That is natural, no?"

Zevran looked up at Emilio with an innocent smile. "Then we would march, and I must say Alistair should really do something about the state of the roads, now that he's the King. It was awful! Half of the time I was covered in mud. The other half I was covered in darkspawn blood... ugh... because there were always at least two fights with the darkspawn before the lunch break-"

This time it was Emilio who hit him. It had been too long since someone hit him properly – the Airam's little punch didn't count – and the pain was much worse than he remembered.

"_The Warden_, Zevran. How did he fight? What was his fighting style?"

"Marvelous! Ah, truly, it was pleasure to watch. When we were in Redcliffe, fighting against the walking corpses, he and Wynne and Morrigan cast that spell... what did they call it... stormy night, I think, or something like that. It was a long time ago, I don't remember exactly, I'm afraid. But, that's not important, no? What I was going to say, was about the Warden. You know, he was standing there, against the dark sky, doing those things with his hands–I could show you, if you'd untie me... no? A pity. It was really gorgeous, and for a moment I forgot to fight completely, I just stood there gawping at him, until one of the walking dead almost cracked my skull..."

He was certain Emilio would hit him again, and he probably would have, if the apprentice hadn't laughed. "Are you sure it didn't?" he asked, in a rather amused tone. "Please forgive my boldness, master, but I thought he'd be much more impressive. Especially as Master Xavier assigned _you_ to this mission. Why waste the best Crow in Antiva on someone like him?"

There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but Emilio was too dumb to notice it. Oh, this was priceless. What was Xavier thinking, wasting an apprentice like this on someone like Emilio?

"I've been wondering the same thing," Emilio muttered, in a much better mood. "All right, Zevran. This is your last chance to tell me something... something... relevant. Important stuff. Not your memories. If you don't, I'll... I'll send Vito and Giulio to persuade you. I'm sure you remember my two partners?"

Yes, Zevran remembered them; in fact, he was wondering why they were not here right now. Not that he wanted to see them. They were almost as bad as Emilio.

"You win," he sighed. "I'll tell you everything, and I'm risking much by doing so. I wasn't quiet because of some feelings... I'm a Crow, after all. I was quiet because the Warden would do anything–and I know what he's capable of, you can't imagine horrors that I've seen–I repeat, he would do anything to keep this secret..."

He dropped his voice to anxious whisper, and Emilio leaned closer to him. Even the clever apprentice was quiet, for once.

"You heard that he has white skin and purple hair, yes? It's a fraud. Make up and a clever spell. White, because it implies... purity. Yes? And purple, because purple is powerful, mysterious, makes him look badass..."

Emilio stared at him, speechless. The apprentice moaned softly.

"Or perhaps I should say, it makes her look badass."

Emilio winced. "You mean the Warden is..."

"A woman. Yes." Zevran nodded, and then, struck by sudden inspiration, added, "A _human_. Woman."

That was finally too much for Emilio. He blinked few times; Zevran could almost see the rusty cogs in his head, turning only with the great effort, and vee-ee-ery slo-oo-owly. The moment when they clicked together was quite obvious: Emilio's face turned the deepest shade of red that reminded Zevran of Alistair, his eyes widened, then narrowed, and his lips pressed together.

"You're having me on," he growled.

Zevran pouted. "Such distrust. I would never do such a thing."

He already had several other jokes ready, but before he could say another word, Emilio hit him and the world turned black.

oOo

He woke up at the sensation of something trickling down his nose. Probably blood, judging by how much his body hurt. He opened his eyes, trying to distance himself from the pain and focus on his surroundings instead.

"Are you're finally awake?" asked a big blur with a vaguely familiar voice that was standing in front of him.

Luckily, whoever it was, didn't want the answer, pressing something–a flask?–to his lips instead.

"Here, drink this. Don't worry, it's just a healing potion."

A faint voice in his brain protested that it was not a good idea, that it could be a poison, but he was too sore to care. Poison or not, if they wanted him to drink it he didn't have a real chance to disobey. He obediently opened his lips… and was surprised to find that it _was_ a healing potion. As the familiar warm sensation spread through his body, the blur changed into more distinct shape. And a rather eye-catching one.

It had to be the apprentice from earlier. A young elf, no more than sixteen, tall and lean and with perfectly shaped head, like a masterpiece of one of the famous Antivan sculptors. His dark skin and hair contrasted nicely with the vivid blue of his eyes – which were now staring at Zevran with clear contempt.

"Why am I even wasting my time with you?" the boy asked accusingly, pursing his lips. "You're clearly no better than that cretin Emilio."

"Such cruel insults. That hurts more than a broken rib, you know. But I admit I am curious. Why are you wasting your time with me? I can't imagine Emilio ordered you to heal me."

"Well, isn't that obvious? I'm healing you because I need you healthy. You're not of any use to me in the shape Emilio left you after your idiotic, wannabe funny answers during interrogation."

"And why do you need me in a good shape? If you don't mind me asking."

"Because I have a… a business proposal." The boy hesitated. "Or I thought I had. I'm not so sure now. I heard a lot about you and your skills, but now… I can't decide if you really are so dumb or if you're pretending it."

A business proposal? Intriguing. And, he noticed, the boy was not worried that someone might walk in on them. An apprentice healing the prisoner against his master's orders–that would mean death.

"What business are we talking about?"

The apprentice folded his arms. "First tell me why you didn't run away, in those stables. I risked my neck there to give you a warning, yet you pretended not to notice. What in the Void were you thinking?"

It didn't make any sense. After a brief hesitation, Zevran decided that an honest answer would bring him further this time.

"Because Emilio is a stupid brute. He wouldn't hesitate to set the whole village on fire, or take a hostage, to get to me. And he wasn't this skilled, when I last met him. I wouldn't expect such a clever trap from him…"

The boy snorted. "It wasn't a clever trap. If that arrow wasn't coated in Toni's poison, maybe you would have defeated us."

"Toni?"

"You'll meet him later… if we make an agreement."

"So what is it you want from me?"

"Freedom."

_Air would love that reply_. He arched his brow. "I am _your_ prisoner, at _your_ mercy. Shouldn't it be the other way round?"

"Stop playing stupid. It's getting old," the boy snapped. "I want to get out of the Crows. But I'm not a fool to think I have a chance to survive alone. I'm still just an apprentice. They'd catch me within one month. You're the only one who managed to stay alive and free for more than a year. With you, I'd have a bigger chance to survive."

Zevran studied the boy for a while. Proud, but calm and calculating; he would have a nice career in front of him, as a Crow. Maybe it was a trap... though it would be the strangest and most complicated trap he had ever seen.

"And you'd trust me?" he asked. "What if I betray you later, or kill you?"

The boy shrugged. "Then I will be dead. I'm not afraid of death."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

"Of a cage," said the boy softly.

"Good answer." Zevran's grin widened. "Last three questions, before we make a deal. What's your name and how old are you?"

"Enrico Gallo and I'm sixteen, though I don't see how that matters. And the last one?"

"How in the Void did you end up as an apprentice to that thug?"

For the first time there was a sincere smile on the boy's face. "I've been asking myself the same thing for almost a year now."

oOo

Enrico untied him and gave him one more potion; when he was sure on his feet again, he took him into another cabin; judging by how comfortable it was, Zevran was sure it was Emilio's cabin. Yet the boy didn't seem worried at all. Impressive... and bit scary.

"What have you done to Emilio and others?" he asked, while Enrico prepared a soap and a towel for strip washing, and clean clothes.

"Nothing. They're having dinner now," said the boy, chuckling at Zevran's shocked face. "You don't need to worry. It will be their last one."

"Ah. I assume this 'Toni' you mentioned before poisoned them, yes?"

"Probably," said Enrico. "I prefer not to know. Toni is... bit different."

"Different?"

"You'll see."

oOo

And he did. When he was properly dressed again and his face finally showed some resemblance to its previous state, Enrico went to 'check the situation'. After a few moments, he returned with a little wiry elf, with half face covered in elaborate scarification and piercing grey eyes. Zevran guessed they were of approximately same age.

"You must be the Toni that Enrico mentioned," he said, flashing his trademark grin on the elf. "A pleasure to meet you. I heard you dealt with the other three all alone. Very impressive. A poison, yes?"

"You talk too much." the elf replied in a dry tone that immediately reminded Zevran of a certain Qunari. "I'm Antonio Salvatici. I agreed to help because I want to become a Grey Warden."

Zevran laughed, but Toni didn't join. "You're serious? But... that's... may I ask why?"

For a moment he was sure Toni would say 'No,' just like Sten. But then he replied, although it was clear he was annoyed. "Because I need to examine tainted blood for my ultimate poison. The Wardens won't let me, because I'm not one of them."

"I'm not one of them, either," Zevran said, determined not to let this crazy creature anywhere near Airam. "Sadly, I cannot help you."

"I want to use my blood, Arainai. I am no threat to the Wardens," said Toni frankly. "All I need from you is to take me to the Warden Commander and talk to him."

"Ah, but there is another problem. I will not go directly back now. I will go to Antiva and convince my former comrades that it is not advisable to hunt me or the Warden. Especially my dearest Master. But it can take quite some time. You should try to find another Warden, yes?"

It wasn't a lie. Desperate as it was, it was the only thing he could do. If he returned, more Crows would come soon... he couldn't risk that they would hurt Airam. And if it scared off this weird guy, it would be an added bonus.

But Toni simply nodded. "I assumed you would want to do it. I'll help. It will be over sooner."

"Awesome!" Enrico's eyes gleamed with excitement. "We will make you the new Guildmaster. And I'll be your secretary general, youngest in the history of Crows."

"I thought you didn't want to be a Crow."

"No, but this is different."

Zevran wasn't sure if he was amused, angry, desperate – or dreaming. Perhaps this was all just a bad dream... But deep inside, he knew no dream could be this ridiculous. He sighed.

"Well then, signor Segretario Generale. You may start by bringing me the strongest brandy you can find on this damned ship."

Enrico smiled, but before he could move or say anything, Toni sighed and took out a hipflask from his pouch. "Here, Arainai. I doubt there is anything stronger than this, on this ship or elsewhere."

Zevran cautiously sniffed at the bottle. His eyes watered, partly from the strong our, partly from the memories it brought.

Dragon Piss.


End file.
